The Reason
by whysostephanie
Summary: Ever wonder WHY Tate did what he did? Ever wonder what drove him to the edge? The answer is always the same, it was a girl. A sad, lonely girl. Before he met Violet, before his death, and even before the murders - she was there. He was the reason she lived & the reason she died. This is her story. (RATED M FOR: Sexual themes, violence, language, and substance use... Enjoy.)


This all started with him, he was the one that tied me to my fate… Even from the beginning I knew he would be the death of me; in one way or another at least. Though, I must admit it wasn't the ending I had in mind particularly… But, an ending none the less worthy of being told.

But that's the thing… It's something nobody wants to talk about it. Nobody cares about what happened to me; hell, even my mother barely reacted to it. From what I hear- there wasn't much of a turn out at the funeral either.

He was the reason, the reason I lived, and the reason I died.

January 25, 1994. There we were, laying in his bed, listening to Nirvana (they were his favorite, always have been,) we just laid there for a while; spent.

"Hand me my bag, would ya?" I asked sitting up, holding the sheet around me.

He sat up as well, reaching over the side of his bed and grabbing my tattered messenger bag, playfully tossing it at me, "you know my mom hate's it when you smoke that shit in here."

I smirked, pulling out my lighter and a joint, "but you like it."

"I like everything about you," he said moving closer to me. His hand moved to the bad of my head as he pulled me forward into a kiss. His lips were soft against mine; the air was dry and thus made my lips that way too. Even winter in California was miserable.

"Right back at ya," I replied teasingly as I lit my joint. We would go back and forth like this for hours, though it may have seemed like it to other people. What we had wasn't entirely physical at all; in fact our emotional bond was stronger than anything I had ever felt before.

As he lay on top of me I looked at him as he kissed my mid-drift, "you know I'd do anything for you, Tate." He worked his way up to my lips and passionately kissed me, leaning in close to me. He was quiet for a while and wouldn't look at me, "Tate?" I asked softly.

"Would you stop hurting yourself for me?" He finally spoke, his gave piercing mine. It was something I hadn't expected, (but also something he'd say to another one day.) This made me turn away from him, though he pinned me down. "Cassie, please, promise me…"

I opened my mouth but no words came out, either luckily or to my dismay the door to his room opened forcefully. Of course, the wicked witch herself just walked right in, his mother. "MOM, haven't you heard of knocking?!" Tate said covering himself up as he got off of me. This wasn't exactly the first time she had caught us together, she knew quite well what the two of us did in our free time. Hell, we were loud enough that I'm sure the whole house heard on occasion.

"Tate, come down for lunch… And send that filthy little whore home," she said harshly as she slammed the door behind her.

I sat there and looked down with a sigh,looking at the scars that covered my arms; Tate shoved everything off of his night stand as he cursed under his breath at his mother. "I'm so sorry Cas, don't listen to her…"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," I lied; rejection was something I'd known all my life. All I had ever wanted was to fit in, to be liked, to be the girl that everybody liked and wanted to be around. The reality was the exact opposite of the situation. I got out of bed and proceeded to get dressed, I felt his eyes on me, but neither of us spoke. Finally, I said in a weak voice, "I should go," I avoided eye contact with him as I headed towards the door.

"Wait," he said loudly as he quickly made his way over to me and grabbed my wrist, "I love you Cassie… Nothing will change that, no one will change that."

"I have to go…" I said with a tear rolling down my face, I pulled away and walked down the stairs and out the door without looking back. If I would have looked back I would have seen the tears in his eyes as well.

I never had the strength to say it back to him, though I knew with my entire soul that I loved him, ever since the day we met. I couldn't say it, not to his face; I knew I wasn't good enough for him. If I wasn't good enough for everyone else then there was no way I'd ever be good enough for him… So there I was, in my bathroom, sitting in the bath tub. A lighter and a knife in my hands; crying as I slid the hot sharp blade over my skin, I repeated the action over each of the 13 scars… Each one for the times I hadn't said it back. Fourteen times… Fourteen times, now I knew I hadn't been good enough to say those words to his face.

I dropped the knife and curled into a ball, still crying, choking on my tears I finally said it, to myself in a whisper, "I love you too, Tate."

* * *

**Author Note:**

_Soooo, that's a very dark and depressing introduction. But I hope you liked the story either way. This is just the introduction. I'm not sure when I'll be updating this because I really want to write ahead before I post just so I can keep things consistent without going in and changing them later. Thus, I hope that you come back to read more. I really loved season one and Tate's story was my favorite but I felt they left so much out; therefore, I'm going to fill in the blanks. _


End file.
